Still, he and James had made it on board.
Though the horrifying screams of hundreds still struggling in the water continued to echo in the night.
And Cassian knew not when or whether help might ever come.
Chapter Twenty-Five
James
April 15, 1912
2:40 a.m.
Clinging to the overturned lifeboat, James couldn’t be sure how long it had been since the RMSTitanichad slipped beneath the waves. For the first few minutes after she sank, frantic screams had rung out around them, filling the otherwise calm night with an orchestra of harrowing terror and unfathomable grief. Several men and women thrashing in the water nearby had pleaded to be let aboard their lifeboat, but the officer up front had instructed James and the other passengers to keep people away, for their vessel was already overly full. At first, some of those people in the water had fought back, several even trying to pull others off of the overturned boat, but soon, once most swimmers had either run out of energy or had otherwise accepted their probable fate, they began to only verbally request to be let on board. Most times, they were denied. Except for a few instances. Like when some passenger who had lost consciousness had fallen off only moments before.
All throughout this ordeal, James had mostly kept to himself. Knowing that he might not have had the strength, either mental or physical, to fight back if someone triedto pull him off the lifeboat, James had shifted his position to move his legs closer to the boat’s keel, largely out of reach from those fighting for a place on board. Cassian had helped keep him balanced, with one of his arms around James’s waist and the other hanging onto the boat.
Once, James had witnessed Cassian shoving someone away, protecting both himself and James from being ripped off the boat. He’d pushed the man back before swinging out his leg out and kicking him, too, knocking him unconscious and sending him adrift. James’s first thought had been something akin to “Thank God,” but then, immediately thereafter, shame had settled in his heart for having thought it.
And now, with the cacophony of screams having been reduced to an echo of soft whimpers and cries, James found himself lingering on that hazy memory of Cassian saving them. He felt both grateful and guilty at once.
Around the lifeboat, bodies of the men and women who had perished in the icy Atlantic waters bobbed about, looking like pieces of wreckage floating in the ocean. Every minute that passed, the screams and cries and whimpers became fainter and fainter, though their original volume and intensity still echoed in James’s ears. Soon, the night was silent and still, and the oppressive lack of sound—save for the waves lapping at the boat—stole the last bit of strength that James still possessed.
He slumped backward, becoming limp.
“James?!” Cassian whispered harshly from behind him, shaking his shoulders once. “James, you better not be—”
“I’m still here, Cassian,” James whispered back. He let out a long, slow breath. “But the silence...”
“I know,” Cassian said softly, his voice seemingly the only warmth in the unforgiving waters. James felt Cassian’s hold tighten. “I know.”
Shaking, both from the cold and from the rush of sorrow and pain, James found Cassian’s hand and linked their index fingers together. He prayed that no one would see them. Or that if they did, they would not care.
Minutes passed like this. Eventually, James stopped shaking and shut his eyes. Despite the ever-present pins-and-needles feeling in his legs and feet, he otherwise managed to forget where he was for a little while, instead focusing on the rise and fall of Cassian’s chest behind him rather than the rocking of the boat or the knot in his stomach. But James’s short stint of peace was interrupted when someone in the middle of the boat collapsed, the man falling into the sea with an ominous splash. Immediately, people began to fill the void the man had left, shifting forward as carefully as possible. Some stood.
Encouragingly, Cassian whispered, “Both of us ought to move forward and stand, too, like those people, so that only our feet will still be in the water. It’s our best chance.”
Exhausted, his limbs numb, James wasn’t sure if he could, even though he knew that Cassian was right. Cassian must have sensed his hesitation.
“You made it this far, James. You can do this.” Gripping James’s lifebelt, Cassian began to rise. “Stand up.” James remained on his knees. Cassian pulled some more. Straining slightly as he tried to lift James to his feet, Cassian whisper-yelled, “Up! Now!”
Reluctantly, James shifted his weight and hobbled to stand. He felt the boat sway as he found his footing and vaguely wondered if it might sink or throw him over. Yet he couldn’t even muster the strength to be properly frightened by the fleeting thought.
Soon, most on the overturned lifeboat were on their feet, everyone clinging to each other for balance. It took seconds for James to realize that he was holding onto the man in front of him, his handon the fellow’s shoulder. Cassian, of course, was still hugging him close.
After a little longer, someone closer to the front called out, “Carpathiais coming.” And the phrase barely even registered to James as more than nonsensical babbling until that same man repeated it for a second time, clarifying, “Carpathia—she’s a smaller liner some one hundred kilometers southeast—she’s coming for us. We should see her lights at about four. Or a little after. It might seem like a long while, and it is, but still, she will be here to help us soon enough. Her crew will take us aboard.”
“How do you know this?” someone else asked, sounding slightly incredulous.
“I’m one of the men from the Marconi room,” he said. “You know, one of the wireless telegraphers. Jack Phillips and I had been in communication with the other ship shortly beforeTitanicfoundered.”
Most of the men began to murmur hopeful and appreciative comments to each other.
Into James’s ear, Cassian said, “Help is coming. Don’t give up. Don’t even let yourselfconsiderit. Not for a second. Notever.”
James inhaled an uneven breath and nodded.
“I won’t,” he said.
